


resurrection (and the reasons to it).

by valvet



Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, POV First Person, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25749775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valvet/pseuds/valvet
Summary: mr nobody looks back on how he got to be the man he is inside of the painting.
Kudos: 5





	resurrection (and the reasons to it).

My first time kissing a man felt like a gunshot through my chest, mostly because I had a bullet wound in my chest at the time, no fault of my own of course; some jackass had shot at me back when Eric Morden was something. Roaming around and doing the usual "put a gun to a mans face and beg for money", the pavement felt horrible against my clothes, pressing my body further into the sweat. 

I don’t remember exactly who kissed me, even with omnipresent powers. That time seems to be fuzzy for me; he was nice though; kind hands on my face as he told me ever so gently that I was going to be fine; to focus on him and him alone. The kiss helped with that definitely, it wasn't hard, unlike the ones afterwards, not romantic based either, just a friendly one, to keep me awake and not to die (oh i wish i died right then and there, at least i could have avoided all this madness.)

Then it stopped, and then I was forced back. 

I was with _ Minnie  _ at the time--didn't tell her that, the whole way through i was with her, even when i fucked a guy in the back of an alleyway, even when i let my superiors use me as a damn girl, at least they kissed good. I did hate them all though--well not them, the idea of what they were, the hatred was from within, I hated myself more than the people who wanted to love me. 

She had to be sneaky though, i look back on it now and realize how obvious i was in how uncomfortable i was afterwards,I'm impressed she didn't call me queer beforehand, when she did, it didn't feel like anything, i had already heard it from myself since i felt this way, the only emotion that i could pin onto that memory was regret. Not dating her, but even trying to be a normal person, of course i didn't know that then; at the time i was begging her to stay.

She hit me right across the face, back-handed; and I saw my father doing the same to me. I wasn't even a good son, and especially not a good enough man for her--or anybody. 

But yet, I stayed, she stayed as well to the very end. 

1946 was the worst year of my life, even now I can fully say that, after Minnie left, I didn't immediately go off to get my mind scrambled like Niles would lead you to believe. Instead, I went home. My apartment smells like old liquor and tobacco, the couch was the most comforting thing that day, next to the cigarette. Never in my life more did i want to kill myself, but Eric Morden didn't; he was a damn coward, to busy mopping around in his own misery to just pull the trigger. But i did think about it though, thinking about the pain dulled my suicide though, i always had a horrible gag reflex and my only thought was to shove it down my throat, let the blood cover the couch and maybe--just maybe, finally escape from a world that hated me more than myself.

But alas, I'm still here--Eric Morden was still kicking, and thus, he ran away from his problems, went all the way to Paraguay just to feel something. 

When that damn machine first started up, I had made the stupid assumption that it wouldn't be painful--or that I’d be forced into a role that meant something. Then my jaw separated from the rest of my body, and it felt like hell, even in my mania driven state it hurt, every single atom of my body got separated and forced back together, like a person with arthritis doing a puzzle, jamming the pieces together even if they weren't supposed to go together. My body ached, the only upside was that it wasn't bloody, but that didn't make it less horrible, it felt like it would be bloody, like i was getting tortured by one of those Brotherhood surgeons, at least they were funny, kind at some points; this was just madness inducing.

But that's me looking back on it, now is it? I wouldn't say Eric Morden had a good grasp on what was going on at the time; if i am to be blunt; it felt like my heart getting ripped out over and over again, an endless cycle of misery that seemed to follow me up until (what i took it to be) my death. 

Then, it all stopped suddenly, my eyes burned with light, and I saw a figure. It looked like a person to some extent, albeit it had nothing to it, just made out of light, when it seemed to know i noticed it, an eye appeared, then a mouth; it grinned.

“Mr Morden! What a pleasant surprise! I wasn't expecting you here it seems! But i don’t mind it though” It sounded like a woman, a professional one at that, I know now that She is not a woman nor a man, She is Her and that is all. 

“Enough with the dilly dallying I suppose! You’re never the type to like that sort of thing anyways--well, future you doesn't, but that's besides the point, you’ll know when you are there” She was above me then, i couldn't speak properly, it came out like i was having a stroke; i believe what i was trying to get across was “huh?” and “what?”. Instead it was probably me gargling like an idiot or talking under my breath.

She put her hand onto my shoulder, and her other hand moved to my face, i recoiled at that, but it didn't stop her, it amused her actually; a soft laugh as she drilled a finger right into my eyes; but it didn't hurt; and even as she dug into me; i could see everything, not where i was, but everything else, i’d say my life flashed before my eyes, but it was everything but myself. Future lives, the dead of the time and the past of others who haven't seen the sun in hundreds of years

“Eric Morden, such a strange life you’ve lived haven't you? I have to pity a person like you to some extent, I mean really, it seems you were destined to misery; even when you tried, the ever knowing violence of man kicked you right back down. Ah, but you aren't a person anymore are you? A person has lived a life fully, you were a hollow shell of a man, filled with whatever booze and or fake personality traits you could put on for others, even now you aren't a person! But that's okay, you’ll understand that soon enough, but I’ll leave you at that i suppose, no need for me to over explain what you are, it's your decision to either embrace what you are, or distance yourself so far from it that you’re not even close to what you represent”

She didn't leave though, She is The White Space after all, i was left in nothing but the white, even as the world began to crumble around me, when i should've been crying my damn eyes out, i didn't, and instead i just laid there, and by god it was pleasant, warm to some extent, but it was comforting.

Until it wasn't--well, not quite, it still was nice, but at the time I still was Eric Morden, half and half to who i was and the thing I am now, half man half nothing. Then, I looked beyond the words of my own narrative, I saw the words being typed out and grabbed them by the throat; the writer, whoever it was, begged for mercy; but I took his place easily. Once I mentally was able to understand the world properly, it dawned on me. I was pathetic, sad and a loser, Eric Morden was nobody special in the world and was too much of a coward to even try to kill himself when he realized that his life was going nowhere, instead he walked in his own damn misery and waited for death. I wouldn't be that, I wasn't that anymore, I can't be him; even if people try to tell me that i can't separate myself from Eric Morden, i did anyways! I tore myself apart, limb from limb. I opened my skin and turned my guts inside out, I became the man I wanted to be, in control of my life for once. 

Of course, here I am now, stuck in a painting with a beard fetishist, I tried to kill him, strangulation usually is my favorite, but yet--I couldn't, I was human--I’m human.

I’m Eric Morden once again. 


End file.
